


Thorns and... More Thorns?

by noobquisition



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: All Or Nothing Spoilers, Arguments, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, It's ok though, LW Spoilers, canach being a dick, lil bit of sexual tension thrown in, spoilers for HOT, the commander's a dick too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-12 23:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noobquisition/pseuds/noobquisition
Summary: A series of one shots and drabbles following a Sylvari Commander and her budding (hah, get it? Plant puns, I'm funny) relationship with a certain prickly Choya boy.*    *    *The slowest of slow burns. But it's not a full fledged fic, more like snippets of their travels and interactions together, eventually building up into a relationship, however rocky it might be.





	1. Kinky

If someone had told the Commander three years ago that she would be thrown ass deep into human politics, and asked to participate in a battle of ‘who can use the most words to explain why you’re a cactus fucking degenerate’. She likely would have thrown herself back into her pod and begged to be un-born. As it stood, she supposed it was probably a little late for that particular course of action. A pity, she thought, as she sipped her wine and half-heartedly listened to Minister Estelle’s tirade about how god’s awful the Queen was. She’d been talking for a full- Telahn looked up, checked the sun dial on the far end of the patio- twenty minutes. Pale Tree give her strength, it had felt like an eternity.

“Why are you working so hard to protect Queen Jennah? She sold us all out, and now she's just trying to cover her tracks. It was definitely Jennah, in a red cape.”

The Commander withheld a groan. Not this again. “You told your accomplice to say it was a black cape.”

“No, it was a red cape.” Minister Estelle frowned. Weird, smooth, human skin wrinkling between her eyebrows. “I think.”

She thinks! That was a new turn of events. “You forgot?”

“You're trying to confuse me.” The Minister accused, voice rising ever so slightly. “It was a red cape. I'm sure of it. Dark red.”

The Commander pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. “You and your friend can’t even agree on the colour of the Queen’s damn cape…”

“Wait. I remember now. The queen was in a black cape, yes. Countess Anise was in a red one. Did I forget to mention they were both there? You know the countess wouldn't let the queen go anywhere alone.”

“Are you fucki-” She scowled, and snapped her jaw shut. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “You're saying Countess Anise was there too? What?”

The Commander felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Kas smiling down at her, serene as always, but there was a tension around her eyes that Telahn picked out and her scowl deepened.

“Clearly we need to discuss this further, Commander.”

The Commander rolled her shoulders and gestured towards a secluded alcove, off to the side and out of the way of prying eyes and ears. “Lead the way, Kas.”

The rest of the night progressed… slowly. Far too slowly for the Commanders taste. She swore, if she could sneak out of the party and burn this damned dress Kas had stuffed her in without fear of said Mesmer tracking her down and dragging her back by the foliage on her head, she would have made a run for it hours ago. But no. The Commander of the Pact, Slayer of Zhaitan, had to fold herself into this frilly purple nonsense _(‘It brings out your eyes, Commander!”)_ and prance about like some silly ponce at stupid Anise’s party. All because some _child _,__ calling herself a Minister, decided to revert back to kindergarten and spread rumours like some fluffed up, stick-up-her-ass, immature little _brat._

_Pale Tree _,__ was she the only one with any sensearound here?

“You know, if it’s fireworks you’re after, I do have some spare explosives somewhere around here.”

That voice. Of course, of __course__ he would be there. Anise’s little pet at Anise’s little party. She had noticed him before, ( _ _of course she had, how could she not?)__ but had hoped, had __prayed__  that the prickly little man wouldn’t notice her presence. The last thing the Commander needed right now was Canach’s barbs and cutting comments. And the last thing she _wanted_ was to be around another fucking Sylvari. And a Second-born at that. The only of her siblings she could ever tolerate being around was Trahearne, Gavin and Malyk. And technically, Malyk was more cousin than brother, and she had killed Gavin. So really, her track record for getting along with family was a little… rocky.

“Canach,” She greeted, a fake smile plastered on her face as she turned. “How… _lovely_  to see you again.” _(You prickly bastard.)_

Canach just raised an eyebrow, seeing right through the false sentiment and straight to the down-turned corners of her lips. He was obviously trying very hard _(not at all)_ to hide his smug, shit eating grin at the sight of her displeasure.

“My my,” he drawled, reclining back on a statue behind him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you may actually _dislike_ this little soiree.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m having the time of my life.”

He laughed, a deep rumble in his chest that the Commander wished she could shove her fist through. He wiggled his fingers in her direction, indicating towards the sparks she only now noticed were spitting off her hands.

“That little light show of yours says otherwise.” He drawled.

Her fists clenched, shutting off her magic in an instant. She felt it sizzle beneath her skin, a current of electricity ready to leap into the flesh of any little __shit__  that came too close.

“I’d recommend you choose your words very carefully, _Brother._ ” She spat the final word like a curse, “I find my patience wearing thin.”

Canach grinned, “Ah, of course. My apologies, Commander.”

She scowled, but forcefully unclenched her teeth. She knew she couldn’t outright attack him in the heart of Divinity’s Reach, as much as she’d love to wipe that smug smile off his face. “Why are you here, Canach. Shouldn’t you be off warming the Countess’ bed for her return?”

He snorted, “Are you jealous, Commander. Wishing I was warming yours, instead?”

“The only time I would ever wish you to be in my bed would be if you were bound and gagged and set on fire.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “ _Kinky._ ”

The Commander sneered, “You’re disgusting.”

“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.” He shrugged, smirk still in place.

The Commander bit back another snide reply, knowing this would only keep going round in circles until one of them gave up and beat the other senseless. Instead, she took a deep breath and schooled her face, hands uncrossing from their place at her chest to clasp behind her back. “I care little about how you treat me, but I do hope you’re behaving yourself for the Countess.”

Canach snorted, “Absolutely. I'm no fool. I could be in a much worse situation than this. I guess you could say I learned my lesson. I know I have a reputation for acting rashly, but those days are behind me.”

“Considering your previous actions, you’ll have to pardon me if I don’t entirely believe you.”

“No pardon necessary.” He smirked, eyebrow raising. “You're in a crowd of many watching me like hawks. So far, Countess Anise has treated me with respect. I have no reason to betray her trust. Besides,” he shrugged. “She amuses me mightily.”

The Commander let her own smirk rise, then. “Of course she does,” she said. “You find amusement in everything.”

“Ah, Commander. You know me so well.” He drawled. His hand raised to knock her chin in a condescending gesture and sparks travelled through her skin to stab into his. Canach’s hand shot away from her, electricity quickly dissipating but he still let out a hiss and glared down at his hand.

The Commander chuckled, deep and dangerous. “Apparently so.”

Canach’s eyes raised to meet hers, blue eyes meeting lavender. “Do let it be known, that if you fuck up again. I’ll be the one leading the hunting party.” She said, head cocked to the side, “And I will not let you leave alive, next time.”

With that, the Commander spun on her heel and walked off, leaving Canach with an aching hand and the strange desire to see how far he could push the Commander until her façade snapped.


	2. Mommy Issues

“What are you? Sixth-born, Seventh-born?”

Telahn growled, the sound rumbling low in her throat. “Final warning, Canach.”

Canach shrugged and shouldered his shield. Then stood back and watched as the Commander knelt to retrieve her daggers, poking a wandering finger or two into the pockets of the deceased.“I wonder,” He taunted, tapping a finger to his chin, “does Mommy even know your name? Or does she simply call you ‘Valiant’?”

Satisfaction wriggled its way into his chest as he saw the Commander tense, sparks spitting off the tips of those wandering fingers. She turned, her face hard, but in her eyes Canach could see something break. _Bingo,_ he thought. Finally he’d found a spot to pick at. To break the commanders playfully sarcastic and infuriating façade. She didn’t cry though, no, of course not. Not the mighty Commander, praised for her very existence. She didn’t cry. But she did spit fire.

“Funny, considering I _am_  a Valiant.” She said, her voice dripping molten steel. “I’m also Commander of the Pact, Lightbringer of the Order, and slayer of Zaithan. I’d get confused too, with so many titles.” She paused, and cocked her head to the side. “What are yours, Canach? Oh, wait. You have none. Unless failure, prisoner, or disreputable cactus boy count as titles. Criminal maybe? That seems to be the most common.”

“You do love your name calling, don’t you, Commander?”

“Would you rather I call you ‘Second-born’? That seems to be your only redeeming quality.” She grinned, her single chipped canine visible with the lopsided smirk. “But then again, it will never be as good as ‘First-born’, will it?”

Canach tensed. He knew he tensed, because suddenly she was there, a breath way from him and a glint in her violet eyes.

“Gotcha.” She breathed. A small laugh ghosted its way across his cheek and she was gone as quickly as she came. Renewing the space between them.

“What’s it like, Canach?” The Commander asked. All innocence and smooth syllables, completely, unwaveringly aware that each word out of her mouth cut him to the quick. “To live in their shadow all these years? To watch your brothers and sisters worship the ground they walk on simply for being born a little early. What was it like, to fall so far from Mothers expectations, from her attentions. Her love. Do you crave it Canach? Mommy’s love?”

He knew he shouldn’t bait her further, he knew he should stop. He should wave the question off with a sarcastic comment and turn away from this conversation ( _argument? _).__ She was the Commander, he knew it wasn’t wise to taunt her, and this talk ( _spat? _)__ had delved into far more malicious territory than their usual spiky, but playful banter. He knew he should stop.

And yet…

“That’s rich, coming from a woman who in Mothers eyes is nothing but a tool.” ( _Stop it! _)__  “Come to think of it, everyone views you that way, do they not? They care little for Telahn, only craving the Commanders attention and aid.” ( _Stop, you prickly headed idiot. _)__  “What’s that like, __Commander?__ To not even be viewed as a Sylvari, but as a __tool__  to be used and discarded.”

An idiot, that’s what he was. A thorn brained idiot. Why does he do this? Why does he consistently, reliably fuck up every interaction with this damned woman. She was infuriating and childish and arrogant. Foolish and impulsive and _so incredibly beautiful._

His question made her pause. Canach’s thoughts did the same to him. Beautiful? Since when had he thought this tiny slip of a woman, likely more bone than muscle due to her insufferable inability to take care of herself, was _beautiful?_ In fact, while he was on that train of thought, when had her being physically attractive started making him pause.

And pause he did. For long enough that the thing that brought him back to his senses, was the Commander. Yet again standing nary a breath away from him, hands folded behind her back and starting up ( _and up_ ) at him through her lashes ( _ _f_ raming those deep, purple eyes that Canach could swear saw into his soul and that thought didn’t frighten him nearly as much as he thought it should_).  

The silence stretched on for a moment, two. Before she finally spoke, voice questioning, curious. But deeper than he’d heard before, a tone of voice that made him mimic her posture, clenching his gauntleted fists behind his back to stop him from reaching out.

“Is that how you see me, Canach?” ( _No_ ) “Do you want to use me?” ( _Not like that. _)__

“Perhaps.”

…

_Idiot_


	3. Silence

She was quiet.

Any other day, Canach would praise whoever would accept his prayer. He’d be enjoying the silence, maybe contemplating when next to throw himself off a cliff once she started up again. But not today.

The Commander was walking ahead of them, that much was normal, her staff __tic tic ticking__ as she walked. The ferns atop her head were still dried out and darkened from the lack of sunlight, but color was slowly creeping back in now that Mordremoth’s corruption was gone and light was peaking in through the thick canopy overhead. The pale blue of her skin seemed less washed out, and her lavender glow was brighter than ever. By all intents and purposes, she looked healthy.

But she was quiet.

He supposed it wasn’t all that surprising. Canach had seen her with Trahearne on a few occasions, and each time he felt like an interloper, witnessing their private moments. She was… soft, with the First-born. Every greeting was a hug, their arms wrapped tightly around each other as if they hadn’t just seen the other a few days ago. Conversation was held in quiet tones, leaning so close their shoulders would bump. Small laughs and affectionate smiles not meant to be seen by any other but their recipient.

He would sing for her. At night, when she went to him after being awoken by nightmares. Canach had heard her once, crying out in her sleep during the night. He’d heard her wake, move about and leave her tent. He had shadowed her, __to make sure she didn’t stumble and kill herself. Not__ because he was concerned for her well being, and most definitely not because he wished to comfort her. He’d followed her all the way to Trahearne’s quarters, where she slipped inside and dissapeared from view. He heard snippets of their mumbled conversation, just pieces of a larger puzzle that was the two’s relationship.

__“Brother?”__ she’d called. Softly, almost fearfully.

__“Telahn.”__  Spoken so quietly, Canach almost missed it entirely. __“Sister, come here.”__

That was the only night he followed her when she rose after a fitful slumber. It was also the first time he had heard her name. __Telahn__. The last was spoken from the same man’s lips, but he wasn’t holding her then. She wasn’t wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, with her eldest brother singing her softly to sleep. She was afraid and broken. Being torn in two as her blood asked her - _ _begged her__ \- to kill him.

She had done as he asked, of course she had. What else was there to do? She had no choice in the matter. It was either slay her brother with his own sword, gifted to him by the Pale Tree. Or risk Mordremoth rising again and the Commander not only losing her eldest sibling, but her entire family. Likely her mother, as well.

Yes, the decision was already made for her. She had no choice.

So why was she quiet?


	4. All Or Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler's for Living Story, Season 4, Episode 5. Seriously, please play through the latest episode before reading this. It has major spoilers.

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, tears pooling in her eyes and overflowing, clearing tracks through her dirt stained cheeks, “Pale Tree, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry._ ”

Canach stood, and he watched. Telahn’s heart was breaking and he knew nothing he could say would mend the fissures quickly spreading in her chest, shattering her from the inside out. She apologized, and cried out into the branded cavern, voice tearing through him and everyone else that had pulled themselves out of the wreckage Kralkatorrik had created. He had never seen her cry before, not even when she was forced to slide a knife through her eldest brothers heart. Not when she died and came to life before his own eyes. Not when her mother was dying, when Braham threw accusations at her as if they were arrows trained to pierce the deepest.

She never cried.

She took a breath, stood up and kept moving forward. It was a trait he was perhaps a little jealous of, at first. How quickly she could shrug off her burdens and grief so she could move forward. It was only recently he’d begun to realize that she never really shook it off. Her burdens were still with her, piling up so high he didn’t know where Telahn ended and her pain began. But now they were on full display, her pain and grief and guilt being torn from her throat and wrenched free so forcefully he felt it in his bones, worming its way into his skin until he could feel wetness on his own cheeks.

Canach’s vision tunneled, the only thing he could see was the way her shoulders shook and her body spasmed as she cried. She knelt in the rubble, crystals no doubt stabbing through the shreds where her armor once was. His body moved on it’s own, feet tripping on the rubble he barely noticed in his need to _get to her_. _He had to get to her._ His knees hit the ground right next to her and immediately his arms wrapped around her. She didn’t react, and that only worried him more. There was no pushing him away this time, no joke about him getting soft. She only cried, and he pulled her closer and felt her body shake.

They sat like that for a time. Canach couldn’t tell how long, too busy coaxing her through her tears, holding her tightly because he thought she would fall apart otherwise. At some point she had turned her head to bury her face into his neck, her arms wrapping around him to cling just as tightly. Her apologies had tapered off, dying down into occasional hiccups and sniffling. Canach leaned back, the effort of pulling away from her so much greater than it would be normally. A strand of hair was tucked securely behind her ear with a hand much more gentle than what either of them were used to. Her eyes were red, but they held his gaze, even if they were a little hazy and unfocused.

Canach cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb running under her eye to wipe away the tears marring her face. He tried to smile, his lips turning up in a pale imitation of happiness. She didn’t smile back, just stared at him with empty violet eyes displaying a pain so deep he feared she’d never surface.

“What… What are we supposed to do now?”

Braham finally spoke, his voice cutting through Canach and Telahn both. She visibly recoiled from the Norn, fingers digging into Canachs arms. Canach looked to him, seeing a mixture of emotions. Shock, confusion, anger. All flitting across his face and all aimed at the woman in Canach’s arms. He felt a flash of fury run through him. This stupid Norn, a barbaric __brute__  who threw his pain and anger on a woman who deserved none of it. And yet he still lived, still thought he had the _right t_ o tag along and throw his opinions in with the rest. _To judge the only damned person in this godsforsaken place that has sacrificed_ everything _for this world._

__“_ Canach _.”_ _

Canach’s eyes shot down, his fury dissipating in a flash from the weak voice, croaky and torn. Telahn looked at him, eyes still red, pain still deep and he saw the mask slip back into place. That split second of vulnerability gone, and in it’s place were thin lips, eyes hooded but still so empty. His stomach dropped at the change, Telahn slipping from his grasp as the Commander took her place.

She pried herself from his grip while everything in him screamed to drag her back, to take her away somewhere quiet, somewhere her duty didn’t ask so much of her. But she stood and surveyed the area, eyes pointedly skipping over the impaled corpse of her friend, her __family,__ before landing on Braham. She bent down to pick up her discarded staff, it’s bladed edges cracked and leather grip torn, but in her hands it still looked as though she could take on the world with it, if only through sheer stubbornness.

Telahn’s back straightened, violent eyes sharp and any emptiness pushed out to make way for fury.

“I don’t know.” The Commander said, and Canach felt his heart break. “But I refuse to let him win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I'm crying, yeah?
> 
> I wrote this while listening to 'The Few Things' by JP Saxe and 'Treasure' by Sampha after a few too many drinks. This ep fucked me up, guys. I spent almost an hour cry emoting in game over an Aurene mini while crying in real life with a friend on voice chat. It was sad times all around tbh.

**Author's Note:**

> I've shuffled some of the chapters around into chronological order. 'Kinky' is the latest, but it's there as the first chapter now. So if you've kept up with the updates and are wondering why tf this fic has another chap but the latest is no different from the last. It's cause the latest chap is chapter one now.


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